95 Scar
by Ichi-Bitch
Summary: 100 writers prompt challenge, 95. Scar. GrimmXIchi. WARNING MILD SWEARING.


Scar.

'A mark left on the skin or within body tissue where a wound, burn, or sore has not completely healed and fibrous connective tissue has developed.' That was what the dictionary said but scars were so much more then that. Scars were a warning, a sign of betrayal. They signified pride or loss. Some showed pain and hurt. Hers was a warning. She lightly traced a finger over the burn surrounding her left eye, her eye now a milky white colour. This was a scar that no amount of make up could ever hide. A girl in her class threw acid at her face, all because she talked to the cheerleaders boyfriend since they had been placed together for a lit assignment. She hadn't been back to school since and today would be her first time back in just over a month. She didn't think she could do it. With a sigh she picked up her school bag and began the walk to school, she'd be late but at least she avoid the rush before class.

Her fears has been correct, the second she stepped into home room everyone started whispering about it, sneaking glances at her, a few openly staring at her. No not at her but her scar. Biting her lip she risked a quick glance up only to spot someone occupying the once empty desk next to hers. Now there was someone that was going to ask her what happened. Pulling on the strap to her messenger bag, she began to turn away from the class.

"Get the fuck over it people and shut up, it's just a scar. No need to make such a fuss over something so stupid." All eyes focused on the new student at his sudden speech, even hers. He scowled at those closest to him, returning his attention to the comic book on his desk. Though it was an odd thing to do, he got the reaction he wanted. The class shut up. With a tiny sigh of relief she sat down, only feeling one or two sets of eyes focused on her now.

When the bells rang for lunch, she quickly stood making a belong for the door. They guy that had spoken out earlier, got up and followed her, making sure to stay on her right side so she could see him. After reaching the roof he sat down dragging her with him.

"About what you did this morning, thanks," she mumbled, fiddling with the straw to her juice box.

"Back in my old school I was on the swim team and then after that the track and before long I switched to the art club, i knew nothing about drawing so I had to be taught from scratch. It was fun and eventually I got really good at it, I joined the art club upon moving here. The reason why I'd left the swim team was because I'd been in a car accident, I got a huge ass scar down the front of my chest." He stopped talking for a second, lifting up his shirt to show her. It traveled from the bottom of his torso up to his left shoulder, a couple of inches wide. Very eye catching.

"Everyone would stare and then start whispering about it, I couldn't stand it and after a week I left the swim team and joined track. Sports was more my thing then. Scar was still visible since I ran in a tank top, used to abandon the top half way through. Whispers started up again not long after, I stayed for three weeks. I joined the art club out of a need to do something and they didn't give a damn about what I wore so it worked out. There was a girl there, joined a couple a weeks before I left for here, she had a scar that started at her right hip, it continued up her stomach, over her breast, up the side of her neck and continued through her right eye all the way to her hair line. She got that scar from her father, and never tried to hide it. I'm gonna tell you what she told me.

'Never hide your scars, wear it with pride. It doesn't matter how you got it, whether it was received in a fight, an accident, protecting someone, or self inflicted. It doesn't matter because it shows how tough you are and that you survived and that you will keep on living. Tough times don't last, tough people do.' I took her words to heart, it doesn't bother me anymore, the stares and the whispers I mean. It shouldn't bother you either, over time it will stop." In a way he was right, but the fear was still there though it had lessened and she smiled.

"That is a much better look on you. 'M Grimmjow," he muttered.

"Ichigo. A cheerleader threw acid at my face because I was paired with her boyfriend for a lit assignment and thought I was going to steal him away from her." The look on his face was total astonishment, he couldn't believe someone would go that far over nothing. Slowly he brought a hand up to Ichigo's face and brushed a finger just over the edge of the burn scars with a feather light touch. She shied away from his touch. He apologised but didn't stop looking at her. It wasn't like before in the classroom, he wasn't looking at her scar but at her. Ichigo blushed, looking away from him. Her blush only stained half her face now, it looked weird. He grabbed her chin gently, turning her face towards him.

"Please don't, I'm ugly," she muttered, looking down.

"I don't think yer ugly at all. To me you are beautiful."


End file.
